


wilbur and the ghost who lives in his office

by specialagentrin



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Anal Sex, Consensual Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Demonic Possession, Ghost Sex, Good Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Possession, Praise Kink, Sleepy Cuddles, there's a high chance for 2 more parts hence the tags, twitch streams, why is that a tag, wilbur soot x captain america 2k20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27316345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialagentrin/pseuds/specialagentrin
Summary: for the prompt: ok then, have you seen wilburs ghosthunting stream? id like a smut between him and the ghost. like, after the stream wilbur tries to talk with the spirit one more time (alone) and the ghost starts touching him. wilbur can't see the ghost of course but he can feel its hands on him. he is pretty freaked out but also turned on.-or, Wilbur gets fucked by a ghost.And then they fall in love.lovely art by@jhanjhan_pineon instagram - please, go give them a follow and tell them how awesome their art is!!!
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Ghost, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot/Ghost
Comments: 271
Kudos: 1016





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> request stuff? it may take a week or so to get too though.
> 
> please note that none of my works is the actutal irl streamers, im imagining their minecraft characters they rp as in these works.

  
“Can you all just - listen to me?” Wilbur sighed in irritation, and could practically hear Tommy’s eyes roll. 

  
  
“Wilbur, I think the ghost is getting to your head.” Niki says softly. 

  
  
“I second that.” Schlatt states, as he downs yet another pack of Hot Cheetos. The crumbling of a bag, the missed toss, and the crinkling of a new one was heard. “You’re overthinking this. There’s no ghost there. Besides, if you don’t get out of your office soon you’re going to get caught.” 

  
  
“I mean -” Tubbo starts. “What about the weird spirit box?” 

  
  
“What about it?” Tommy states. 

  
  
“Didn’t the ghost speak through the box?” Tubbo replies. “It said something about a fire - what if it died in a fire?” 

  
  
“Ew, the FNAF song just came into my head.” The blonde british responds. 

  
  
“I love that song!” The youngest starts to hum the tune happily, fingers repeatedly typing and pressing the backspace key on his side of the screen. 

  
  
Fundy unmutes his mic. “Look, I found something. There’s these two pretty popular youtubers called ‘Sam and Colby.’ Their content is based around paranormal and haunted exploration stuff. They apparently came to Britain last year - so maybe you can do a team up together? I don’t know, try and banish the ghost together?”

  
  
Wilbur thinks for a moment. “Maybe… where are they located?” 

  
  
“In California.” 

  
  
“I don’t want to make them pay a large expense of money just for a plane ticket for something that doesn’t even exist.” 

  
  
“Technically, the ghost does exist if it attempts to make communication with you multiple times. You never know if you don’t try.” 

  
  
“Maybe. I’ll dm them on their joint account later, then.” Wilbur pulls out the spirit box again, fiddling with it in his hands. “Should I try to communicate with it one more time?” 

  
  
“Why? It already said for you to leave the first time.” Tommy questions. 

  
  
“I just want answers, that's all. What if I’m meant to somehow send it back to heaven? Help it pass through to the afterlife?” The tall british says. 

  
  
Fundy hums in agreement. “Well, with your charming personality, I wouldn’t say that option is too far off.” 

  
  
“Aw, Fundy, you think I’m charming?” Wilbur shoots him a big grin. “Does my pretty son think I’m charming.” 

  
  
“Wilbur, please please  _ please _ for the love of god shut up.” Fundy states. Schlatt is trying his hardest not to laugh while drinking his soda, spilling down from the side of his mouth and onto the floor. “Schlatt, stop laughing!” 

  
  
He doesn’t stop, though, covering his mouth from spitting out his drink. 

  
  
“Well, if you're going to do it again, please be safe, Wil.” Niki tells him, and he smiles softly at her. 

  
  
“I will Niki.” He flicks back on the spirit box. “Don’t you worry about me. If anything, I’ll send a message in the general chat to let you all know I'm alright. If I don’t respond in twenty-four hours, then I’m in the grasp of hell’s hands.” 

  
  
“Be safe, alright?” Tubbo’s concerned voice tells him. 

  
  
“Don’t die.” Fundy and Schlatt say in unison. 

  
  
“I’ll continue to spam your dm’s with messages throughout the night, then. If you don’t answer after twelve hours, I’ll come by your office myself.” Tommy leaves no room for argument.

  
  
It warms his heart to hear them all worry for him, and he turns off his computer and mic before they can see a light blush dusting his cheeks. 

* * *

  
Turning off the light, he turns back on the spirit box.

  
  
It plays static on repeat, as if it was a broken record. 

  
  
Wilbur takes a deep breath. “ Um - hello again, Mr. or Ms. ghost. It’s me, Wilbur Soot, the boy who has taken occupation in your current area of...haunting, to say the very least. I want to ask you a few more questions before I leave for the night.”

Static plays from the radio for a few moments, until a clear ‘ _ continue _ ’ plays. The tone of the word is soft, the background music that would originate from a lo-fi beat.

“Well, I honestly didn’t expect that to happen.” The british utters in shock. “Alright! Are you attempting to communicate with me better now that there’s no one besides the two of us?” 

  
  
‘ _ Millions of people… _ ’ The channel this time sounded as though it came from a news report. 

  
  
“No, I ended the stream a while ago. And it was just a few thousand people, no big deal really.” He responds. The flickering of channels stops, giving him the green light to ask another question. “Is it possible for you to tell me your name? A few letters of it, maybe? It would help-” 

  
  
A loud, ear-deafening screech cuts him off. ‘ _ NOOO! _ ’ 

  
  
Shivers run down his spine, and he quickly shuts off the spirit box. 

  
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.” Siri says right after, and Wilbur eyes the phone resting face down on his desk. He doesn’t remember leaving it on, and the setting to turn it off after five minutes is enabled. With trembling hands, he picks up his phone and turns it over and quickly scans what the speech-to-text reads. 

  
  
‘ _ Did I scare you? _ ’ 

  
  
He drops the phone onto the table as if he was a child who touched a steaming pot. Wilbur leaps out of his chair, taking two long strides to the door and turning the knob with as much strength as he can muster. 

  
  
It won’t budge. 

  
  
“What the fuck…” Wilbur mutters. 

  
  
“ _ Look what you made me do… _ ” Taylor Swift sings, from the spirit box. 

  
  
“What the fuck.” He says, a bit louder this time. “Listen, this isn’t funny. I’m sorry if I disrupted your sleep or something of the sort, I just wanted answers. I can’t constantly be bothered by a ghost while I’m streaming or recording.” 

  
  
He pulls the door knob a bit more frantically, hand banging on the wood, fear clawing into his heart. 

  
  
‘ _ Don’t go _ -’ It says, before reverting back to static. As if taunting him with the radio silence. 

  
  
“Yes, well, you’ve made it pretty clear you don’t want me too.” He tells the air. “It’s either you let me go, or I can just alert someone with one of the many options of technology I have.” 

  
  
Apparently the ghost doesn’t seem to like that option, flinging him into the sofa as if he were a lightweight child. He hisses when his head collides with the wall, glasses shattering at the impact. The spirit box goes silent after, as Wilbur takes off his spectacles, thumb tracing the shattered glass. The air temperature has dropped significantly around him, making him shiver. 

  
  
“What do you want with me, then?” Wilbur eyes the window. He’s on the second floor, it’s not that far of a jump, considering his height. He can just make a quick escape and get this over with. “Why have I grabbed your attention?” 

  
  
The box flickers back to life, Curtis Water lyrics playing through. ‘ _ I’m a pretty boy, I’m stunning _ -’

  
  
“I don’t understand - um - you’re probably quite an attractive ghost?” Wilbur tries. He rests his glasses on the armrest of the couch, trying to stop his leg from shaking. 

  
  
There’s static for about five minutes, as if it’s trying to find the right words to say. ‘ _ You’re pretty cute, want to date? _ ’ 

  
  
His heart stops. “What - I -  _ wait wait wait _ \- you think I’m attractive and you want to date me?” 

  
  
‘ _ Yes. _ ’ 

  
  
“...oh.” 

  
  
Silence falls over the room. 

  
  
And then invisible hands begin to undo his pants. 

  
  
“Woah! Hey -” His pants are pulled off with one swift move, tossed into the air and landing onto his PC. Cold fingers hook themselves underneath his waistband, goosebumps rising on his skin from the touch. A thigh slots between his own to make sure Wilbur doesn’t close his legs. 

  
  
‘ _ Fine? _ ’ The spirit box says. Frigid fingers trace his cheekbones as an interesting shade of red falls over his face. He can tell the ghost is looking at him, asking for his approval. He lets out a soft hum in agreement, eyes fluttering shut. 

  
  
When they kiss, it’s definitely not like all his previous kisses. Normally they would make him feel butterflies in his stomach, a skip in his heart, maybe fireworks exploding in his mind. But no, this is definitely different. It’s like an electric coursing through his veins, through his very soul, bringing warmth and safety into his head and heart. Trying to reassure him that no harm will come to him, that he’s safe in this pneuma’s arms. 

  
  
And yet, the spirit's lips are chilly and sharp against his own. 

  
  
Wilbur puckers his lips out to empty air, wanting to deepen the already intoxicating kiss. The snap of his underwear waistband brings him away from his daydreams, cock making a lewd sound when it smacks against his stomach. God, he’s already hard and leaking precum from the mere advancements the ghost made on him. 

  
  
Wilbur twitches in his spot when cold fingers ghost over his cock, as if fascinated by it’s length. He doesn’t dare move nor’ speak, afraid to break whatever illusion or dream he’s inside. 

  
  
And then a light outside his office flickers on, a woman's voice drifting into the hallway. 

  
  
Cleaning service arrived early, then. 

  
  
Wilbur covers his mouth, throwing his head back. He bites his lower lip for good measure, because if he was caught getting a -  _ what was he even supposed to call this _ \- a handjob from a ghost at three in the morning, this would surely give the higher management a reason to kick him out for good. 

  
  
The ghost’s thumb rubs over the slit teasingly, before stroking Wilbur slowly. His pretty whines and whimpers are kept hidden as it works his cock with slow strokes, the sexual contact and intimacy making sparks light up all over his body. He has to bite his finger when the ghost slowly undoes his shirt, a cold tongue flicking over his nipple. 

  
  
The woman tries to open the door, making a sound of disapproval when it doesn’t bother to budge. She doesn’t even bother to peek through the small door window, to reveal the naughty activity Wilbur’s doing with an other-wordly being. 

  
  
When the office worker disappears, Marvin Gaye begins to softly play through the spirit box.    
  


‘ _ Ain’t no valley high enough… _ ’ 

  
  
“Oh my god -” One hand grasps the armrest tightly, while the other claws into the sofa, hips jerking into the movement. “I think your supposed to buy me dinner before we get into sex -  _ fuck! _ ” 

  
  
It jerks him off in quick, dirty strokes, never faltering it’s rhythm. Wilbur can feel the ghost watching him - maybe in excitement, just as he was, wanting to see him cum over himself? Or perhaps with desire, a sly grin on it’s, knowing exactly what his touch was doing to his human body? 

  
  
He didn’t last long, not with the way the ghost seemed to have taken an personal interest with hearing the stunning symphony of moans falling from Wilbur’s lips. 

  
  
Semen spurted all over his stomach and onto his thighs, the semen showing off an outline of what seems to be a hand. Much larger than his own, to say the very least. He sags into the sofa, chest heaving from being out of breath. Wilbur looks back to the window, watching the small twinkle of yellows and reds in the cover of darkness.

  
  
And then his jacket is yanked off his body, shirt being torn apart as buttons fly and clothing goes astray. He gasps, scrambling away from the now angry hands trying to grab him. “Wait - what are you doing now?” 

  
  
He’s propped into someone’s lap, feeling the outline of a cock between his asschecks. 

  
  
“So...you're a male. You don’t suppose we can just compare cock sizes in a competition of our masculinity instead of pushing that thick rod inside of me?” Wilbur gulps.

  
  
Strong hands wrap around his waist, and he feels so dainty and fragile underneath his touch. But there’s nothing gentle about the way the massive head of the ghost’s cock is pushing against his tight rim. 

  
  
“Wait, don’t tell me you’re going in without any prep!” He turns his head around to emptiness, and yet he knows there’s a face looking right back at him. “You can’t just, fuck me raw! My ass will-” 

  
  
Wilbur feels the loss of control of his own limbs. He feels them go limp at his sides, as a body puppet for someone else to manipulate. He can’t even tell if he’s overcome with excitement or fear, worry or pleasure. Was this how it felt like being possessed?

  
  
The moment the ghost slides his cock into Wilbur, it’s like pure bliss. 

  
  
The spirit doesn’t waste any time either, fingers gripping into Wilbur’s waist and giving a few, slow, tentative thrusts. It’s other hand wanders over his skin, tracing every dip and curve to it’s memory. 

  
  
It finds his prostrate in an instant, pushing into it without any remorse. Wilbur’s thighs squeeze shut, making out gaspy breaths and whines as he feels nothing but Euphoria. Cool lips kiss his cheek, a sudden gesture of affection. 

  
  
“You like treating me like a dirty whore, don’t you?” Wilbur leans his head back to expose more of his neck, wanting those freezing lips to press against his pulse and mark him up. “Turning me into a slut, for your own horrid desires?” 

  
  
Strong arms scoop up his legs, so that his knees are next to his head, feet waving aimlessly in the air. If possible, Wilbur can feel the ghost’s cock even deeper into his stomach, back against a strong, firm chest. It continued to relentlessly pound into his stomach, his mind thinking of nothing but other possibilities, other positions he and the ghost could get into. 

  
  
“Fuck, it feels so good! Give me more, oh fuck, Mr.Ghost - it feels wonderful!” Wilbur trembles from his touch. “I’m losing my fucking mind here, oh fuck - I don’t know how much more I can take.” 

  
  
“Do you feel me, Wilbur?” A deep, silky smooth voice says into his ear. Wilbur gasps, grabbing the slightly visible body tighter, clenching around him tightly. “Oh… I’ll take that as a yes.” 

  
  
“I can hear you-” Lets out a high pitched whine when a hand wraps around his cock again. Jerks him off in rhythm to his thrusts. 

  
  
“Good. Then cum for me, Wilbur.” 

  
  
And Wilbur does, with such intensity and power, a scream tearing from his voice - that he passes out. Hands wrap around him tightly as his mind fades to black, whispers of praise he can't hear being told to him. 

  
  


* * *

  
When Wilbur wakes up, the first rays of sun are shooting through the glass panes. It gives the room a soft, heavenly glow, which is the exactly opposite of what he's feeling right now. 

  
  
His clothing is scattered across the floor with astray buttons - along with a slightly unpleasant ache in his ass - mind still unable to comprehend the fact that he literally  _ fucked a ghost _ . But there’s one thing in particular that catches his eye. 

  
  
It’s an ouija board laid on the floor, wilting roses scattered around it. It’s a beautiful shade of dark red, as if it’s been painted over with someone's own blood. He lazily extends an arm towards it, fingers dragging the board closer. The wood is smooth to the touch, the sides intricately detailed with small carvings of flowers. The lettering is painted gold, along with the border that runs around it. Laying upon it is a heart shaped planchette, with ‘I <3 U’ in the middle of the piece. 

  
  
He fiddles with the piece in his hands, pondering. 

  
  
“Huh.” He says to no one but himself. “Am I dating a ghost now?” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I fell down the stairs..?” Wilbur tries, and from the look of everyone’s faces, they don’t believe it. 
> 
> “Without your shirt?” Tubbo raises an eyebrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I fell down the stairs..?” Wilbur tries, and from the look of everyone’s faces, they don’t believe it. 
> 
> “Without your shirt?” Tubbo raises an eyebrow. 
> 
> note that my sister suggested this, don't worry, she didn't read the first chapter, i only told her i had a ghost make out with wilbur and i needed an excuse as to why he didn't have his shirt on when he came into the vc and she was like ‘he fell down the stairs that's why’

“Tommy, don’t call the police yet.” 

“Minx, you're not my mom!” 

“I will call your mom if you don’t sit your ass down!” 

  
  
“Do it! I dare you!”

  
  
Niki sighs as Tommy and Minx bicker back and forth at each other. Fundy jumps onto the call for a moment, excitement in his eyes dull when the first thing he hears is shouting from two of the loudest people they know in their friend group. Tubbo was struggling on a math question, constantly erasing his work and scribbling down a potential answer. Jschlatt is just relaxing, playing something on the Wii controller, his expression concentrated on the game. 

  
  
And then there’s another ping of someone joining the voice call, Wilbur’s worn voice speaking. “Tommy, Minx, can the two of you stop shouting?” 

  
  
“Wilbur!” Everyone shouts, and he’s suddenly bombarded with an array of questions wondering what happened after Wilbur ended his stream. 

Tommy’s voice is the loudest of them all, literally jumping out of his seat. “Wilbur! Where the flying fuck have you been? You haven’t answered any of my texts or calls - i was bloody near calling the army for you! And where is your shirt? Your strip naked!” 

“I fell down the stairs..?” Wilbur tries, and from the look of everyone’s faces, they don’t believe it. 

  
  
“Without your  _ shirt _ ?” Tubbo raises an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, without my shirt.” He teases right back. “But no, I uh-” 

He can’t exactly say he had sexual intercourse with a ghost, that would be a one way ticket to the mental asylum. Wilbur rubs his neck nervously, hissing in pain when his hand rubs on one of the darker hickies left on his neck. He looks at himself through the reflection of his phone screen, gently poking at the star-scattered hickeys laid all over his neck. 

  
  
“ _ Ohhh _ .” Minx drags out. “I think Mr.Soot got laid last night in his office.” 

  
  
Schlatt spits out his drink. “I’m sorry? He did? You did?” 

  
  
A slight grin forms wide on his face. “I can’t exactly say what happened -” 

  
  
“Tubbo, Tommy, you two, leave the call.” Fundy states. 

  
  
“Hey! I’m old enough to know who Wilbur decides to kiss!” Tommy shoots back. 

  
  
Wilbur rolls his eyes. “No, I can’t say what happened in the...interaction, in general. If I told you all, you wouldn’t believe me.” 

  
  
“Of course I don’t believe you got laid! I thought you were a sex after marriage type!” Schlatt says. 

  
  
“Can we not talk about this now? I slept on the office couch and I miss the sweet embrace of my bed. I was up until five in the morning.” Wilbur yawns involuntarily. “I promise to message you all when I get up.” 

Niki spreads her arms wide, pretending to give her best friend a hug from her side of the screen. Wilbur does the same, leaning in closer to the desktop and gives the electronic device a hug. 

  
  
“You better!” Tommy screams into his mic. “What if you died by the ghost or something?” 

  
  
He laughs at that. “Trust me, the ghost wouldn’t hurt me on purpose.” 

* * *

When Wilbur arrives home, he tenderly washes his skin and hair. He slides a finger into himself, just in case there was invisible ghost sperm inside of him or something of the sort. But he doesn’t feel anything inside of him, even though he could’ve sworn he felt hot streaks of semen pump into his ass. 

  
  
Drying his hair, he brushes his teeth and makes himself some coffee that’s stored into the fridge for later. Shuffling through his drawer, he finds a soft pair of sweats and shrugs those on. Wilbur collapses face first into the bed, and he immediately knocks out.   


Although, when the musician awakes, the first thing he notices is the ouija board sitting in the middle of his bedroom floor, the planchette resting upon his legs. His hand slides underneath his pillow, grabbing his phone and turning it on. The bold white lettering says ‘4:11 pm’ - which means he has to head back to the office in three hours.

  
  
Picking up the platchete and throwing the sheets off of him, he looks around his room nervously. “Um… Mr.Ghost? Are you here?” 

  
  
The wooden piece flies out of his hands - landing exactly in the center of the ouija. His eyes widen in shock, heart skipping beats in fear.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” His voice cracks. “Would you like for me to talk to you through the board?” 

  
  
The sound of the planchette sliding across the board and slowly moving towards ‘yes’ fills the room and drowns everything else out. He walks towards the board in a trance, plopping himself down in front of it and placing shaky fingers on the piece. Gently using his fingertips to place the piece back into the center of the board, he doesn’t dare lift his fingertips up. He’s seen enough horror movies and youtube videos about what will happen if he attempts to. 

“The ouija board, was it a gift for me?” Wilbur asks. 

  
**YES**

  
  
A small smile appears on his face, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I think it’s a lovely gift. The dark red color, the delicately carven flowers around the border, the golden lettering, it’s stunning work. And the little I love you message inscripted into the playing piece, I adore it very much.” 

  
  
**T H A N K Y O U**

“Your welcome!” His grin grows wider. “Um...perhaps I can get a name? So I don’t have to continue to call you Mr.Ghost?” 

  
  
**NO**

The platchete doesn’t budge when Wilbur attempts to pull it back. So it stays there for about five minutes, before it moves again. 

  
**  
** **S T E V E**

  
“Your name is Steve? I think that’s a wonderful name for a gentleman like you.” He chuckles. 

  
  
**Y O U A R E A V E R Y H A N D S O M E L A D**

  
  
The blush on Wilbur’s face turns deeper, like he’s been slapped. “I mean - I guess I do look acceptable on some days. I bet you're quite the handsome man yourself, Steve.” 

  
  
The planchette makes a heart shaped motion on the board.

"I uh, I like doing music. And I stream! Which isn't excatly date-like material you would want to tell someone. Although I'm sure you know that already, I do apoloigze if I scared you or something during the livestream." He states. 

  
  
**I T I S O K A Y**

  
  
“Do you need help going to the afterlife, Steve?” Wilbur questions. 

  
  
**NO**

  
  
“So...then why are you here? Why did you choose me, out of all people? Why am I worth some significance to you-?” The piece suddenly shoots straight to goodbye, and it feels like someone else's fingers have been lifted off of his own. “Shit - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep boundaries, Steve.” 

  
  
The planchette doesn’t answer his questions from that point on, no matter how much he tries to call Steve back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> carrd.co:  
> [sirinpride](https://sirinpride.carrd.co/) &
> 
> twitter - [@homiesexualmcyt](https://twitter.com/homiesexualmcyt)
> 
> curiouscat - [@homiesexualmcyt](https://curiouscat.me/homiesexualmcyt/)
> 
> requests are open - kudos and comments are really appreciated!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A huge huge huge thank you for [@jhanjhan_pine](https://www.instagram.com/jhanjhan_pine/) on insta for filling my request of wilbur with his ghost, steve - it's truly my own honor to have this piece from them <3

A week.

  
  
A whole week without contact from ‘Steve.’ 

He’s apologized to thin air multiple times, and yet still hasn’t gotten a response from the ghost at all. 

Wilbur has even attempted to get gifts for the other-worldly spirit - ranging from leaving a spirit box in his office to a bouquet of roses on the end of his bed. And still, no sign of the ghost being anywhere near him, or even touching upon any of his gifts. But he can still feel something watching him.

  
  
It’s following him around, no matter where he went - feeling the otherworldly presence the strongest around the witching hour. But whenever Wilbur called out to Steve, there was simply nothing to reciprocate the fact that he was there. 

Watching. 

He presumes that Steve has left him, probably to find someone else to ghost-fuck, when he hears his handwash bottle fall onto the floor while he’s taking a shower.

  
  
The musician takes a peak from behind the shower curtains, and notices a faint handprint resting on the mirror, and his bathroom door has sprung open, nearly flying off its hinges.

  
  
Huh.

  
  
So Steve was still around. 

* * *

When he arrived at his office, he raised an eyebrow at the little envelope plastered taped onto his door. The musician opens it up, eyes scanning over the short paragraph there, and he sighs in frustration. Whoever owned the building still decided to kick him out of his office, giving him a month warning beforehand.

  
  
He’s going to have to stream in his own house for the next month or so, apparently. Or until he finds an office that isn’t too far and suits his tastes.

  
  
Collapsing onto his seat, he starts up his PC and opens up discord. Tubbo is busy streaming on the Dream SMP with Tommy, doing their usual best friend content together while Tommy answers whichever questions he feels comfortable with. He considers joining them for a moment, but then notices that Schlatt is online, his discord status in another language.

  
  
Turning on his stream, he gives a warm welcome to his chat, before sending a message to Schlatt himself.

  
  
_wilbursoot: want to join my stream and chat for a bit?_

There isn’t an immediate response, and he reads the quick messages from his chat.

  
  
“Yeah, my day has been doing okay.” He tells his viewers. “I was feeling a bit down for the past week, actually. I felt as though I was...missing something. But then I managed to find it again this morning while I was in the shower - weird, right? I’m just very happy about it.”

  
  
“What was it I lost? Well… it was something recent. Um, it just happened to appear one day, and I got very attached to it quickly - which is surprising, since the last thing I got attached to rather quickly was my first girlfriend - and it had literally been less than a day and I may have done something stupid to make me lose it. But it’s back now! I think.” Wilbur tells them. 

A discord ping is heard. 

_jschlatt: couldnt wait until i got out the shower could u loverboy ;)_

Wilbur reads the message, chuckling to himself. “Looks like Schlatt is joining, fresh out of the shower.”

  
  
He presses the call button, and the first time is unsuccessful. Wilbur is about to call him again, when Schlatt calls him instead. Answering the call, there’s dead silence from the other line.

  
  
“...Hello?” Wilbur questions. “Schlatt? Are you there?”

  
  
Still nothing. “You’re on live, Schlatt.”

  
  
And then the furious sound of something being brutally smashed apart is heard all throughout the office, making Wilbur sigh very, very deeply. He should’ve expected it by now, Schlatt’s done it every time they’ve called - and yet it still manages to catch him off guard every single time.

  
  
“Hi Wilbur!” Schlatt says cheerfully. “I just broke another laptop, water seeped into the keys n’ shit.”

  
  
“Mhm. I heard.” Wilbur replies.

  
  
“Anyways...how you doing, hot stuff?” Wilbur can practically hear the flirtatious wink from the other man. “You look gorgeous with those high definition office lights. Really brings out your smile.”

  
  
The musician chuckles. “Yeah? You think I’ve got a pretty smile?” 

  
“Oh, the prettiest. Put a grandma’s old ass looking dentures to shame.”

  
  
“Are you calling me elderly?”

  
  
“You are pretty old, you’ll need to go to a nursing home soon. But don’t worry.” Schlatt sends an image of Wilbur, and it seems to be an image of him put through an aging filter. He’s got long, overgrown white hair covering an eye and sagging cheeks and wrinkles in places they shouldn’t be. He bursts out laughing, hearing Schlatt laugh alongside him as well. “Trust me, you look like this right now.”

  
  
Wilbur laughs harder, pulling the image onto the screen. “Chat - chat - do I really look like this?”

  
  
“See! The chat’s saying yes - you really are an old man Wilbur.” The republician jokes. “But don’t worry, I’ll still love you when you look like this.”

  
  
“Really?” Wilbur raises an eyebrow.

  
  
His discord profile picture becomes glitched for a moment before his face appears, holding a bowl of cheerios in his hand. He passes Wilbur a wink, making the other man roll his eyes at him. “Hi Wil.”

  
  
“Hi, Schlatt.” Wilbur replies. “Do you want to play minecraft with me?”

  
  
“Ooo, are you asking me out on date?”

  
  
“We can make it a date if you prefer.”

  
  
“On a date? With Wilbur Soot? Who would I be to reject such an offer?” Schlatt adjusts his camera, so that his face isn’t out of frame.

  
  
“You’re paying, right?” He starts up minecraft, creating a new server and waits for Schlatt to join. In an instant, his character spawns a few blocks away from Wilbur, looking around the world curiously. They’ve landed in the middle of a snow biome, a few polar bear entities in the distance.

  
  
Schlatt scoffs. “Of course I’m paying.”

  
  
Wilbur feels the temperature suddenly drop in his office, shivers running down his back. The light above him flickers for a moment, before shutting off completely. His chat freaks out for a moment, before it begins to spam variations of telling Wilbur that his ghost has returned.

  
  
“Wil? Did you do something stupid?” Schlatt rolls his eyes. Wilbur can tell he’s concerned, because Schlatt would pretend he doesn’t care and then send a message asking if he needed someone to talk to.

  
  
“No no, I think there’s something wrong with the electrical here really.” He comes out of his seat, pressing a few buttons on the small temperature control pad right next to the door. “Or perhaps it’s Ghostchamp.”

  
  
“Ghostchamp? Who the fuck is Ghostchamp?” Schlatt questions. “You cheating on me, Wil?”

  
  
“With a ghost? Yes, yes I am.” The musician states.

  
  
They continue on with the stream for another half n’ hour, deciding to build a waterfront house by the sea. They continue to throw flirtatious lines as the ‘sexual tension’ between them grows thicker, Schlatt deciding that his character is a Havard teacher and Wilbur is the innocent student that was somehow lured to his house.

  
  
Eventually, Wilbur says; “Are you going to spank me, Schlatt?” which ends up with the two of them boasting into laughter, the republician falling backwards in his chair.

  
  
Wilbur lifts up his hand to enter in the command for his character to turn into creative, but it stops midway. He feels as though something is stopping his hand from moving any further. But it suddenly flops onto the table, Wilbur retracting his hand quickly and flexing his fingers, rubbing his wrist.

  
  
“What the-” His eyes roll to the back of his head, vision becoming blurry as all he can see is the bright LED office lights. Wilbur slowly slumps out of his chair, feeling his entire body intake something heavy, as though weights we’re placed on every last bone in his body. He doesn’t feel as though he’s in control of his own body anymore, watching with rolled back eyes as his left hand lifts up and knocks the camera recklessly.

  
  
“Wilbur?” Schlatt asks, full of concern now. “Are you okay? The fuck is going on?” 

  
His own body tries to stand on wobbly legs, nearly collapsing head first into his PC, hands flying everywhere. The taste of iron fills his mouth, and he realises that his nose is bleeding. Opening his mouth, he tries to say something, but it isn’t his voice.

  
  
“ _Hello, Wilbur. Did you miss me?_ ” It’s softly spoken, the words heavenly strung together with a hint of a New York accent.

“Wilbur? What the fuck!” Schlatt says in distress. His face turns towards the computer, feeling his heavy hand raise towards his lips and put up a single finger. The corner of his lips turn upwards, before his whole body collapses onto the floor, blacking out. 

* * *

When he awakes, it feels as though someone smashed a hammer into his skull. Slowly pushing himself off the floor and into his seat, he rubs his eyes for a good minute before trying to focus on Schlatt’s video feed. A drop of blood drips onto the desk, and he opens up the desk drawer and pulls out a sheet of paper to place against his nose.

  
  
“Schlatt -” Wilbur wipes off the dried blood with his sleeve.

  
  
“Wilbur!” He says in relief. “You doing alright?”

  
  
“I - I think so… nose is bleeding, though.”

  
  
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

  
  
“Sorry about that -” Wilbur picks up his camera from the ground, pressing the paper to his nose. “It’s uh - it’s a scene that I wanted to play… for a new ARG that’s in the works!”

  
  
The lie slips out easily, and Schlatt raises an eyebrow. “You never told me about any new ARG!” 

“Yes I did -” Wilbur says as he places the camera where it belongs. “Check your script. Hold on, I’ll send it to you again.”

  
  
“You better.” The other man throws an empty cereal box carelessly behind him. 

  
  


_wilbursoot: ill explain later lmao_

_wilbursoot: you wouldnt believe me but i need you to believe me for this_

_wilbursoot: ok?_

_  
_  
Schlatt sighs. 

  
  
_jschlatt: u better_

_jschlatt: don’t scare me like that again_

He gets another message from George in dms.  
  


  
_georgenotfound: wilbur are you okay?_

_georgenotfound: schlatt asked me to check in on you._

_  
_ _  
_ _wilbursoot: im ok, just some roleplaying :)_

_wilbursoot: schlatt just forgot his lines_

  
  


_georgenotfound: oh okay <3 _

  
  
Wilbur sends an apology to his chat, before continuing the minecraft livestream as though nothing had ever happened. The two of them flirt for another hour, before Wilbur blows up the entire house, laughing like a madman when he does. Gives a wink to the chat, telling them that they’ll see something blow up again in the future, before ending the stream.

  
  
Schlatt clears his throat afterwards, munching on yet another American cereal brand. “So - you gonna tell me what happened back there?”

  
  
“If I told you - you wouldn’t believe me.” Wilbur checks for any more signs of blood seeping out, before throwing his bloody paper away and wiping the dry blood with his sleeve.

  
  
“Hit me.” He folds his hands together.

  
  
“A ghost is in love with me.”

  
  
“...For the sake of my sanity, I’m just going to go with whatever imaginary script you have in your head and believe that you hit your head too hard.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [@jhanjhan_pine](https://www.instagram.com/jhanjhan_pine/) insta  
> [@jhanjhan_pine](https://twitter.com/jhanjhan_pine) twitter
> 
> kudos n' comments appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> carrd.co:  
> [sirinpride](https://sirinpride.carrd.co/) &
> 
> requests are open - kudos and comments are really appreciated!!!
> 
> twitter (add me to a groupchat, i want to cause chaos.) - [@homiesexualmcyt](https://twitter.com/homiesexualmcyt)
> 
> curiouscat - [@homiesexualmcyt](https://curiouscat.me/homiesexualmcyt/)


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